


A Lot of Surprising News and a Criminal Boyfriend to Boot

by Kymopoleia



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: M/M, but the first chapter is less gay, if you were looking for nightwing/prankster stuff then yES this is it, more of a "hey yo", than a "hey ho", this is gonna be really gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:58:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1882521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymopoleia/pseuds/Kymopoleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick finds out that he's suddenly Bruce's favorite son because he knows how to host a Wayne party, where he meets the Prankster out-of-mask. Of course, one thing leads to another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lot of Surprising News and a Criminal Boyfriend to Boot

**Author's Note:**

> Note, the prankster in this is from NEW 52, from the Nightwing comics, introduced in #19. I just want to say outright though, I do not own issues 22-28, so I did not see how events went after events in 21, so I will be respectfully ignoring them because this will also take place before them. Unless DC did a bitch ass time loop thing, in which case I would like to submit a formal complaint because, ugh, time shit is awful.

"Dick, you know how much I'm going to hate asking this, but can I borrow you?"

Dick looks up at Jason, in full Red Hood garb, hand on one hip. The unconscious criminal he is handcuffing groans, and Dick feels very similarly. Oh, this was not going to end well.

"Yes, Jay?"

"Bruce needs you to do something."

"When did _you_ become his errand boy?"

"Since Damian said 'fuck you Bruce i'm going to go be a hero on my own'. And when Tim said 'you are a grown man do your own shit'."

"And that leaves you?"

"Well, he had Kori tell me and, you know Kori. When she wants something, _she gets it_."

Dick nods, unable to disagree. "And what does he want that managed to get *your* red ass out to Chicago?"

"Haly's circus isn't doing so well, Bruce is hosting a charity ball/gala thing. I don't give a shit what term he used. He promised he'd get the cops off my ass for the next three months. I made him do six, but he'll probably only come through for the first couple."

"I'm in."

"And he promised to buy you a bunch of suits too."

"He wants to buy me?"

"No, he's been looking for an excuse to buy you things. The party he wants you to plan is just the bait on the hook."

"I'm annoyed that he found the right kind of bait."

"Well, it only took him a decade to figure that out. Took him longer for me. Wanna bet on how long it'll take him to win Dami back?"

"Obviously."

And that's the conversation that ended up with him saying bye to Joey and Mike, who was suspicious of him anyways, boarding a plane (he wanted a train, but Bruce bought him a plane ticket, and while he loves saying "fuck you" to Bruce, he's not gonna spend his own money, of which there is very little, on something as trivial as that.) to Gotham.

It would have been nicer if Jason had been there, but instead of a ginger with a lot of (justified) issues and a trigger happy demeanor, he gets a screaming two year old. His headphones and Idina Menzel's "Let it Go" only cover so much of the noise before he gets a headache and asks the mother in a not so kind way to control her child. She replied with, in the _exact_ tone of voice that made his headache escalate in intensity, "Boys will be boys, get over it. You were one once."

He may or may not have told a bitch off. And by may or may not, he went into a three hour rant ending with "And if you _ever_ use the term 'boys will be boys/ again, it better not fucking be about your son raping a girl, because if so, I will find you and-

He was cut off by a flight attendant telling him that it was time to buckle up in case of turbulence. The mother gives him dirty looks the entire time, but her son is staring up at Dick in awe. He says "Nightwing is the best superhero, and never forget it." before shutting up. When he gets off the plane he gives the woman a cheeky grin and says "You're lucky I didn't go into detail. Have a nice time in Gotham! It's awful here."

He pauses one last time. "And, just so you know, ma'am, I am a thousand times more influential than you will ever be. I am Bruce Wayne's ward, and I am here in this piece of shit city to plan a party that you may not even hear about. But it's for the best circus you'll ever go to, Haly's Circus. Your son has better manners than you do, and he screamed for a straight hour. Have fun in town, take him to the circus sometime, he might see something magical. You're too old and prejudiced to see anything." He turns and walks away, waiting until he's deep into the crowded terminal to snicker at the look on her face when he said, well, everything.

When he gets outside, with his one carry-on bag, Jason is waiting. Leaning on his bike. On _Dick's_ bike. He has two helmets, one of them mostly red but with white on the edges of the black visor, and the other in a black and blue version of Nightwing's logo. Dick's logo. Yooooo.

"Bruce kept my baby?"

"Bruce has kept _all_ of your babies. Why do you think he's doing the fundraiser thingy for the only thing that get you to come quicker than your girlfriend's moans. Or boyfriends, I've heard some stories-"

"Wally is lying shut up."

"I was talking about Roy."

"Fuck. Whatever. I stopped caring after twenty minutes of listening to toddlers screech and ruin Idina Menzel's song."

"Let it go?"

"Can't hold it back anymore" Dick sings softly.

"Let it go, let it go, I've heard the song way too much." Jason sings back.

"But here I stand, and here I'll sing! Let Bruce rage on!" He sings loudly, some people stopping to stare, some people joining him.

"Dick, no, stop. Please. No. How the fuck does your voice even last that long. You must be great at deepthroating. Dick. Stop."

Dick finishes the long vocal, and takes a second to breathe before ending with "You've never bothered me anyways, twerp."

Jason shoves his helmet into his hands. "Nerd. You're a huge fucking nerd."

"Whatever, you actually read the novel that the movie was based on before the movie was even a thing."

"Shut up and get on your child."

And he does, giving Jay his bag and climbing on to straddle the bike. The seat was, quite literally, _made_ for him, so his ass fits perfectly into it. It's more than a little snug, and that's how he likes it, because _hey_ his bike and if he wants to look fantastic when he rides the bike, then so be it. There's another seat behind him, but saying it was meant for another person to sit on was another ballpark entirely. Jay climbs on behind him, and has to push up against him just to stay on the damn bike.

"Dick, I hate you."

"Hold onto me, you don't wanna fall off."

"I hate everything."

Dick laughs, tugging his helmet on as Jason's arms wrap around his waist. He starts the bike, chuckles as Jason curses, and takes off.

One thing Dick has to give Gotham credit to is that it's fun as hell to ride in. Angry drivers who drive too fast and don't give a shit about other drivers, criminals, and old ladies with a penchant for slamming their kitten heels on the gas are his absolute favorites. From the curses behind him, which have gotten more inventive- his favorites being "damn snaggle nipple" and "You scullion! You rampallian! You fustilarian! I’ll tickle your catastrophe!", which he's pretty sure is a quote from the bard- as the ride goes on, he can gauge how well he's doing. The more curses, the better.

He doesn't head straight for the manor, instead going for a little french bakery that he and Damian went to a lot in and out of mask. It was his favorite part of Gotham, if all truths be told. Jay ends up vomiting in a trashcan outside, and only ordering a hot tea, but hey. He doesn't care about what Jason wants, he's much more emotionally invested in the warm swiss and ham croissant and raspberry fluffy yogurt thing. Parfait? Parfait.

Jay admits the peppermint tea is good, and actually turns Tim-white when Dick says he's going to get back on the bike. Jay then says he's fine, he'll stay here, and Dick has to pretend that isn't funny as he takes his duffle back.

He doesn't wear the helmet on his way back, and the wind soothes him as much as the bakery had. The feeling of it going through his hair, beating against his face as he goes down the long, winding roads as city becomes rich-people no man's land is fantastic. The sights are beautiful, sure, and all the manors and mansions are grande, but part of him wishes he were still in Chicago.

No, none of that has anything to do with the blonde criminal who had helped him try to take down Tony Zucco. Well, not willingly, and not much of a part, but he helped. Tremendously. And had a fantastic ass and stupid heels and. Nope, nothing to do with him.

The driveway leading up to the gate that opens up to the driveway is long. Part of Dick, and by 'part' he means all, wonders what the fuck the original Wayne's were thinking. Probably that it looked cool. Ugh. The gate opens the second he grins at the camera, and then he finishes the long ass ride down the driveway. What the hell Bruce's grandparents. What the hell.

Alfred is waiting for him with a cup of tea and a bemused smile on his face. "And where has Master Jason wandered off to? Or, fallen off to?"

"He's safe in a french bakery. Unless he left, then I don't know where he is. Is that your special blend?"

"Yes it is, Master Richard." Alfred offers him the cup as he gets off the bike, and he takes a long sip, closing his eyes to let the warmth sink into him. "Ah, Alfred, you're the best."

"Thank you, Master Richard. Would you like me to show you to your room?"

"Has it's location changed?"

"Yes, it is now three floors higher and twice the size."

"Seriously? The first one was larger than the apartment I was living in over in Chicago."

"I do not question Master Bruce, I simply let him make his own decisions and bring him tea."

Dick snickers. "That makes sense, it's all you can do with a person as stubborn as B. Now, about that room? My head still hurts from a screeching toddler."

"Of course, this way."

If Dick had to pick one person to miss out of the entirety of Gotham, it would be Alfred. He loved the man's snark, personality, tea, voice, how much he _cared_ for Bruce. It made him sleep easier at night, knowing Alfred was alive and taking care of Bruce. Sure, he dislikes a lot of the man's choices, and he's still bitter and sad and he can't be blamed for all the feelings he has. Not when Bruce spends most of his time angsting and brooding and bitching. But he cares about Bruce, and hey sure, saying "fuck you Bruce" is fun, but he still wants him alive and well and able to hear when he says "fuck you Bruce". There's a huge difference between saying it to an actual person who needs to get their shit straight, and saying it to a gravestone. And a lot of times, he thinks Alfred has made that difference possible. Without Alfred, there would be no Bruce to bitch at. Probably no Dick to bitch at Bruce, either. He's an integral part of their lives and he's _perfect_. 

The room that Alfred shows him to is huge, and it's not even the entire floor. Once again, Dick is reminded of how _fucking huge_ the manor is. It's not surprising, it never is, but it's. Annoying? Frustrating? Fun? He's not sure what word fits his emotional state as he walks in, smiles and nods at Alfred, then sets his duffel on the bed. Well, there's quite a few more steps inbetween Alfred and the bed, but still.

His stomach hurts from the powdered individually packaged peanuts in the plane. His head hurts from the little boy. His eyes hurt from being open in the high speeds of the motorcycle ride. His everything hurts from constantly fighting crime and taking hits and dodging bullets.

The bed is nice. A soft blue comforter, pastel, almost, with red and yellow pillows. For some reason, it has gauzy pastel green curtains around it, and the actual bedsheet is black. Who chose the colors, Dick has no clue, except it's making him feel like he's in a young girl's bedroom, and very out of place. Only Bruce knows how to make him this uncomfortable, but he doesn't give a shit after he drops his jackets, pants, kicks the shoes off, and tugs off the shirt.

He can plan parties later, can read and listen to music and _care in general_ later. Sleep, sleep is good.


End file.
